In the thoughts of time we are of sand With aphasic songs the ratios are blind A lucid air deletes the sound The water slows to receive you The lantern guides to the coil As a weapon forms of the dawn The air reeks of foul play Inscribe your fears in the soil The sea is foul Like worms in your heart Consume an age old Of forgery and deceit At the center we will find you Falling prey to its lustre